


Drops of honey

by sometimes_i_english



Series: The timer [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom!Stiles, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Rimming, This is fluff, blowjobs in the shower, bottom!Derek, but this is fluff, idk i wanted them to be happy, they're husbands!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 15:17:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sometimes_i_english/pseuds/sometimes_i_english
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It happened when Stiles was six years old. He was playing in the sandbox with Scott, just goofing around and shuffling while their mothers talked. Claudia’s head was already shiny and she insisted on covering it with some prettily patterned scarf. It was summer and the sun shone and it was such a ridiculously movie-esque day that there were even birds singing and everything felt sluggish and slow and just breathable.</p><p>Stiles was getting bored.</p><p>If he had to describe it as anything, it would be not a jolt of electricity, but more of a natural pull or the quiet magnetism of two sides belonging together. He turned his head and strained his neck, but there were too many people and he was unable to find the source of it.</p><p>His timer appeared the next morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drops of honey

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know? I just wanted things to go easy and nice for them for once, no pinning and no drama and just them being drawn to each other and falling in love and just being happy. Also, this is the first time I try to woven the story in this way and I'm really not to sure how it came about, so if you could please please please leave a comment I'd be forever grateful.

The air in the room is hot and heavy with sweat, heated moans reverberating from the darkened walls and the slap of skin on skin creating an almost vulgar melody. Stiles is in pure bliss, with his head thrown back over the bare mattress and his back burning from the friction of the sheets; his fingernails are drawing red lines on Derek’s back where they have found grounding. It intoxicates him, the smell of Derek’s skin on him, the feel of his cock pulling and pushing and jabbing and fucking him so damn good. Derek is like that, he fucks and gets fucked like there won’t be a tomorrow, like Stiles is the only precious thing he’s been allowed to have.

It’s maddening.

It’s maddening and flattering and all the best unnameable things people sing about in love songs and the way poetry used to be.

And Stiles feels it. He feels it and he thinks it really wouldn’t be such a terrible destiny to go mad on the hands of Derek Hale.

“You’re distracted” Derek grunts above him; his forehead scrunched in concentration, Stiles can feel the way he’s trembling slightly; or maybe it’s him or both of them; and he just smiles at his husband.

“Kiss me” he tilts his head

Derek doesn’t kiss him immediately, at least not on the lips; first he changes the angle and makes Stiles scream, just to nip on his jaw then his cheeks and his nose and his eyelids, only when Stiles squirms he kisses his lips.

Chaste and soft.

Until Stiles opens up and lets him plunge his tongue inside.

They’re both tired, Stiles knows it, but the delicious drag and pull of their bodies with the way they were meant to find each other and how lucky they are to have actually, as corny as it sounds, fallen in love.

Stiles loves Derek.

And Derek loves Stiles.

And they both know it.

Yet Stiles recites it like a prayer, a tirade of iloveyous that make Derek chuckle and kiss him at first, until it becomes so much Derek’s cheeks and the tip of his ears colour a pretty red; but then he says it back, or kissed Stiles with so much hunger mixed with softness in his eyes that there is no reason or actual need for him to speak.

It happened when Stiles was six years old. He was playing in the sandbox with Scott, just goofing around and shuffling while their mothers talked. Claudia’s head was already shiny and she insisted on covering it with some prettily patterned scarf. It was summer and the sun shone and it was such a ridiculously movie-esque day that there were even birds singing and everything felt sluggish and slow and just breathable.

Stiles was getting bored.

If he had to describe it as anything, it would be not a jolt of electricity, but more of a natural pull or the quiet magnetism of two sides belonging together. He turned his head and strained his neck, but there were too many people and he was unable to find the source of it.

His timer appeared the next morning.

Years were to go before he actually found his “soul mate”. He was so excited about it, smiling big and stupid and running down the stairs to show his mom.

Stiles didn't understand why she cried so sadly when she saw it. Even when she hugged him and apologized and smiled with water still pouring down her cheeks.

Stiles didn't understand why she apologized either.

“Wait” he gasps, his fingers are cramped from stressing the sheets so much and his back is starting to hurt from their position.

“Need to change?” Derek pants. Stiles only nods.

Derek pulls out eliciting a moan from Stiles’ throat and helps him to move. Figures Stiles would be the one to loose balance and knock his head on Derek’s forehead while trying to sit on his lap.

At least they’ve been together for long enough to just laugh it out and keep going.

“I’m a danger to society”

Derek just hums as he licks a stripe up the younger’s collarbones; twining his fingers in the mussed hair and pulling down for a kiss.

“You should put your hands somewhere more useful” Stiles waggles his eyebrows at the man and Derek just rolls his eyes.

He still moves his hands down Stiles’ spine and kneads his ass in time with his first thrust.

“There-ng-yeah, there you go”

Scott’s timer appeared way after Stiles’ did, and yet he found his Allison way before Stiles timer was to be out.

Scott was thirteen and Allison appeared when he was sixteen and she was seventeen.

Timers aren’t an insurance policy of actually belonging, Stiles was smart and nosey enough to know that, and Scott and Allison are living proof of it.

They were sickeningly sweet for days and then they’d turn and be ridiculously venomous. They fought jus to go and have make up sex later on. It was tiring.

And Allison got tired.

And Scott was heartbroken and sad and he cried for weeks and months (and even present Stiles is sure he still feels sad about it sometimes, but it’s an accepting sadness rather than a crippling one)

All the way from Middle School to High School, Stiles got enraptured in a blinding crush and almost religious reverence for Lydia Martin. Queen bee of Beacon Hills’ students’ community to be feared and respected.

At least on the outside.

At first he felt guilty, like he was betraying his meant one by liking someone else. Then everyone was doing things and losing their virgin statuses with someone else and Stiles thought having a crush wasn’t such a bad thing.

Until Lydia actually noticed him, as the best friend of the boyfriend of her best friend, but hey! Something was something.

And then somehow they became…friends, yes, friends who talked about calculus and mysteries and mythology. Because Lydia was smart, and Stiles had known all along.

And maybe Stiles was being too smug about it, but Lydia seemed happier those days than before.

Even when Jackson, her boyfriend of turn, kept on being an absolute dick and making her miserable.

Oh, and Lydia noticing him made him happy, oh yes it did. And being friends with her made him even happier.

Yet he didn’t feel that magnetism, that pull from that day in the park. Or the compulsion to kiss her or the want for her body; his hands didn’t itch with the need to touch her and his breath didn’t change when she kissed his cheek hello or goodbye.

But his heart did break when she arrived in his room one day to undress and undress him and cry the whole amount of water in her body while she laid him down and sank on his half-hard penis.

She kept going and he didn’t know what to do or what to say.

Because whatever might be said, he didn’t say no.

But it felt wrong.

He felt good, he ejaculated and her soft skin with the wetness between her legs and the way she made him squeeze her boobs while she moaned and writhed and jumped and jolted and gasped made his body feel good.

But he felt betrayed.

And he felt dirty.

Right after she left Scott called him to let him know that Jackson had moved to Motherland England without a word to anyone…not even to Lydia.

And he still smiled at her in the hallways but he never discussed about calculus or mythology or science or anything really with her anymore.

After their senior summer, Lydia and Allison left together.

The moon is high in the sky, shifting its place and leaving barely a few hours for daybreak. “Are you trying to break some sort of record?” Stiles pants, he’s already come four times; he’s all sweated and limp and there’s a delicious buzz under his skin.

His right hand is wrapped around Derek’s dick, the bastard is still hard, fucking into his hand with his eyes open and staring into Stiles’ face.

It should really say something how that intense stare doesn’t make him uncomfortable anymore.

Or how much more he wants, until he feels full and empty at the same time. Until he can’t even get out of bed in the morning from how sore and spent Derek has left him.

Derek’s hips stutter and he comes with that grunt thing Stiles knows he does during sex, except when they have slow and sleepy sex and he moans and hums and purrs contentedly into Stiles’ neck or his collarbones or even his hairline.

It was sunny. The day Claudia died.

It was sunny and Stiles was nine and all he could think of was a secretly whispered “finally”

Because he loved his mom. And he was really tired of seeing her suffer on that hospital bed, connected to all those machines and being fed by a tube. Her eyes closed and her skin ashen; that was not his mom.

Claudia Stilisnki had been a lively woman. Full of energy and wit and a quick sarcasm that managed to turn into wise words of advice when he needed them best.

His dad was heartbroken.

That was the first time Stiles understood what it meant to have a broken heart. He’d read somewhere that hearts don’t really have anything to do with how someone feels. That everything happens in the hypothalamus.

Yet seeing his dad so…broken.

So sad and alone. He couldn’t bring himself to believe that the sheriff’s heart had nothing to do with it.

Partially because he had felt his own heartbeat slow to a small percussion while tears rolled down his face and his breath got caught in ugly hiccups that were no longer proper for a boy his age.

He saw the Hale family there.

Laura, the oldest sibling had babysat him sometimes. She cried with him and held him close while whispering soothing words into the hair behind his ear.

Then was Talia, who hugged him and patted his dad’s shoulder. Stiles didn’t hear anything they talked about.

There was that pull again, that honey like attraction.

Stiles met Derek Hale for the first time then.

Derek was already fifteen, he had a cocky grin and a stupid haircut. And he just shook both Stiles and the sheriff’s hand, an awkward look to his face.

Stiles liked him.

And then he cried even harder because he couldn’t tell his mom about how nice he had thought Derek Hale had been with his lack of words and his stupid haircut.

Eleven years later he understood why Claudia had cried the day he showed her his timer.

Taking a shower seems like too much work, being sated and soothed the way he feels. But Derek is one of those “neat freaks” (Stop putting quotations marks there Stiles) and he just needs to sleep on clean sheets with his clean skin and the soft smell of the shampoo they both share.

So Stiles lets Derek pick him up, even when they’re the same height and Stiles has actual muscles and is sure he’s way heavier than when they met. He lets Derek pick him up and carry him to the bathroom because Derek is strong, in more ways than one, and because he knows how much Derek loves taking care of him.

How lost they both would be without that fraction of their routine.

White light meets his eyes when the lights go on, it’s blinding for a mere second, the tiles are soft grey and the shower is separated from the tub.

“Are we fancy or what?” Stiles whistles, earning himself a low chuckle and a roll of eyes from Derek.

It’s almost laughable how incompatible their theoretical selves are, with Derek being an architect and Stiles understanding nothing about design and holing himself in his researches and computers with binary codes instead of soft lines and bright colours, yet here they are. Together.

Together in a fucking awesome relationship where Derek takes care of Stiles and Stiles takes care of Derek and it’s so fucked up how they’ll never understand how people end up unhappy with their “meant-to-be”

After Lydia left, Stiles felt…he felt nothing really. Not towards her at least, because he felt guilty. And dirty and unworthy.

He found that he didn’t trust girls anymore.

It should’ve been more of a catastrophe than it seemed to him. What 18 year old boy didn’t like girls?

Danny.

His friend Danny.

Danny who was also 18 and gay.

Danny who Stiles had sex with for at least six months after prom.

Zero feelings, twice a week and lots of lube.

Then of course Danny met this other guy from this other department and they stopped and Stiles was already 19 and it didn’t matter any other way. It just felt good.

Nice even.

The moment when someone else took control and he could stop thinking. Even when Stiles was the one putting his dick up Danny’s ass, Danny would be the one to take care of everything. Stiles might have put his cock up Danny’s asshole countless times, but he never put his fingers there.

Stiles didn’t look for a new partner.

“I like you” he whispers as Derek nips playfully at his bottom lip

“Yeah?” Derek smirks

“Yeah” he smiles

“I like you too” he whispers, it’s stupid, maybe; not it’s really not. The way they fell into murmuring those words instead of great declarations of love.

It suits them.

It suits them and whatever it is they’re doing and will keep doing because Stiles won’t give Derek up. Because sometimes it’s way more than alright to be selfish, and he’ll be selfish with having Derek for himself and keeping him.

And maybe he knows that Derek will also allow himself that small amount of selfishness and kidnap Stiles to never return.

Rain was falling, rain kept falling when Stiles turned 20. There was a huge party, university kind of party; lots of alcohol, even more people he didn’t know and, if he was lucky, one present that didn’t come from his dad.

He was far too sober for shit like that.

Scott was far too drunk and his tongue had migrated from his mouth to the throat of a tall, curly, lanky guy. What was his name again? David? No…Ernesto? No, that wasn’t it…I…Asimov?

Fuck it, he’d ask later.

Girls kept trying to grind against him and guys kept trying to brohug him and pat his back and it was all just so nauseating and maybe he’d already become a pessimist. No, actually he was a very positive person but finals were a step away and he couldn’t waste his time celebrating the day he came to the world because of his mother’s efforts and not his, instead of studying.

He had a scholarship to maintain for fuck’s sake!

So he walked around because his room was occupied, had been since at least two hours ago, and that busty brunette with that pretty blonde and the cocky asshole of a baseball player in there didn’t sound any ready to leave.

The doorbell rang and Stiles had never been more thankful for something to do but be in his own birthday party.

He opened the door and there stood…well, there stood someone he hadn't really seen before, because trust him he’d remembered that face. Or that smirk. Or the leather jacket or the nicely tight shirt or those jeans and those fucking eyes of doom.

“Er…hello?”

The man chuckled lightly “Hi, I’m here for my brother”

“And you-I mean, your brother is?”

“I’m Derek and my brother is Isaac”

Isaac! That was curly’s name!

“Yeeahhh, I think he’s a bit busy right now” and he wasn’t lying, aside from being a second away from eating each other’s faces, Isaac’s hand had been traveling a bit too far south for it to be innocent play.

Derek just sighed “alright, I’ll just…I’ll pick him in the morning. Thanks Stiles” he turned to leave “oh, and happy birthday”

“Hey! How do you know my name?” because, ok, a stranger knowing his name was mainly creepy

Derek’s thick eyebrows furrowed slightly “we grew up in the same town” he explained

“Oh” that was Derek Hale, who had been at his mother’s funeral, who had disappeared a year later and who had just left a strange tingle under Stiles’ skin.

The shower doesn’t really help.

They take one and then another because Stiles enjoys being a little shit and, more than that, he really likes Derek’s cock. Well, his whole body, but he really likes his cock. So, naturally, he got on his knees and sucked him, pressing his hips down with a muscly forearm and fondling his balls while his tongue traced line after line over the sensitive skin.

Making Derek moan is one of the accomplishments Stiles feels more proud about.

He boasts about it.

But only to Derek. Nobody else is allowed to understand the blush that creeps high on his face, the small trembles and sudden gasps that shake his form, how his hands get tangled in Stiles’ fingers and the broken whimpers that do yell how in love he is with Stiles.

The year after Claudia died was a nightmare. Stiles’ dad basically became an alcoholic and the child was left to pick up piece after piece of their life.

Thirteen months after her death, the Hales disappeared. There was a fire, “Awful thing” Stiles saw his father curse lowly. “Terrible, terrible thing”

He had known that Derek and his sister, Laura were the only survivors; and somewhere in the tiny bit of innocence he had managed to steal from death, he thought…no, he hoped, to be there for Laura, like she’d been there when his mother passed.

But he was just a kid.

And two weeks after the fire, a mere two days after what was left of the bodies was recovered and buried, the two siblings disappeared.

Nobody knew where they had gone.

Stiles had only known Laura, and only as his babysitter. Yet he felt a small hole in his already broken heart.

Stiles learned how Laura had died by a hit and run while in New York the morning after his 20th birthday party, talking with a hungover Isaac; he would ask Derek later. If…When he saw him again.

A cab was called to take Isaac home.

The Hale family got buried in Stiles’ mind when exams, graduation, friends and senior year overwhelmed him with the avalanche of compromises it brought. Then he went to grad school and even Scott became a second thought.

Sometimes, when he was alone, or even when he was surrounded by people without really being with them; he would run his fingers over the numbers tainted on his wrist. Time seemed to trickle down too slowly.

A part of him wanted to meet this person, to know them, to just know if they were right or wrong or just a complete fuckup of a joke planned by destiny.

The rest of him was just scared. Because he didn't know this person, and maybe they'd be another Lydia or another Danny or just a new face in a bar with a kiss and a handjob, a quick bye and an non-felt "sorry, kid"

Or maybe they would see him and realize that he was just Stiles. The Stiles that Lydia hadn't wanted and the Stiles that hadn't been enough for Danny. And they'd run and hide and he'd end up as lonely as he felt.

And it was so stupid, even he could admit to it. To how utterly stupid it was; his life was fine, he actually had friends, his dad was actually eating healthy and his grades were straight A's; so why? Why? just why? Why did he feel the need of not being alone in that life?

Derek wraps him in a fluffy towel and kisses his nose.

"You're a big puppy" Stiles laughs

But Derek just smiles at him. With that small happy tenderness the years together have given him, overwhelming Stiles with how fucking happy he is, how amazingly thankful for Derek he actually is.

"Come on Puppy" he smirks, drops the towel and parades his hips the twenty-six steps it takes him to get from the bathroom door to their bed. He barely hears the murmured "woof" before he's being tackled onto the dirty sheets, fingers burning marks along his damp skin and a desperate mouth on his. They knock heads while trying to move and Stiles just bursts into a fit of laughter, little hiccups of happiness at Derek just managing to not care and laugh with him.

Time isn't wasted and as soon as he manages his laughter, Stiles wrestles his way on top of Derek; it's such a nice view. To have Derek sprawled under him, damp from the bath and the sweat that has begun to cling to them, mingling the scent of soap and dried semen and them into the space between those walls. Stiles bends down o trap a nipple between his teeth, rolling it with his tongue and wetting it in saliva, rubbing the other with expert fingers; sensitizing them, making them hard, making Derek hard.

And he can feel the accelerating pulse of Derek and the rapid rise and fall of his breath, almost taste each vibration as moans escape the man's cords. It riles him. He's laying on top of Derek, feeling the hardness of his dick against his hip and rutting his own on Derek's leg; he can't help the undulation of his spine as his hips stutter and grind in search of friction. But not yet, he can actually last thank you very much. So he moves down Derek's body, nipping, marking, touching; until he's met with Derek's dick.

He looks up and licks his lips just for effect.

Derek loves his lips.

Being 22 hadn't changed anything for Stiles. Except that he was just one year from getting his masters and, since he had been 22 for about three months and a half, his timer was finally running out; and his anxiety/excitement mix was running in.

One week.

One more week and his numbers would go into zero.

That was the longest week of Stiles life.

He watched the numbers become smaller and smaller as his feet carried him into a small coffee shop.

He just kept walking, and walking.

Then his feet stopped when he'd reached a table in a small corner. Someone else had stopped there.

Stiles didn't dare look. Not higher than the ground, that is, so he definitely saw the black boots and the blue jeans. As much as he didn't want to look, he couldn't help feeling, that same feeling of his birthday party two years before. That same pull of that day in the park, the same one of his mother's funeral.

His head snapped up and he cringed at the thought of what that might mean to his neck. Staring back at him was the surprised face of Derek Hale.

"Oh" he breathed, and he wasn't sure if he was relieved or more scared than before knowing.

And Derek smiled and offered to buy him coffee.

There should be sonnets written about Derek's cock, well, about his whole body. Although, no, Stiles rather be the only one who gets to permanently worship it. He licks the head and runs his tongue over the slit, Derek is writhing under him, moving restlessly and almost ripping holes in the sheets with the way he has them in a vice-grip.

Derek loves Stiles' mouth.

And Stiles absolutely loves servicing Derek. Slowly, he moves down, kissing the dick on his hand and pumping it as he goes; he licks a line over his perineum before tonguing at the puckered skin of his asshole.

"What the-nnng!"

"Yeah, babe. Exactly that" Stiles pants, he looks for the bottle of lube they might have dropped around before, having to move until he finds it on the floor. If not because it's necessary he'd left it there and not move from tongue-fucking Derek.

Lube's cold when he pours it, being the little shit he is, he doesn't really warm it, barely smothers it over his fingers before thrusting two inside. He scissors them, kneeling so he can look at Derek's face, the pleasure on his factions, the way he almost rips his bottom lip from biting it just to give up and let his mouth hang open in soundless yells.

Three fingers in and both of them are leaking, Stiles on the sheets and Derek on his own stomach. Pools of white against his tanned skin.

Stiles wants to lick them away.

He does.

"Stiles" Derek gasps

"Yeah" he manages

It took them over a year to actually gain each other's trust. Derek was already 28 and a successful architect when they formally met; a successful architect who actually failed at humans relations and having a life. It took a lot of time for him to open up and tell Stiles about Kate and the fire and the unbearable load of guilt he carried.

"It's ok" Stiles soothed him, rubbed his back and kissed his temple while they both cried curled up on the hard floor of Derek's empty loft

"What's ok?" Derek whispered

"Feeling guilty" Stiles murmured "but it's also ok to let go, and it's ok to let me share your burden"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah"

"Ok"

Derek was a flirt.

Derek knew how he looked and how people looked at him. And he was an asshole that liked to smile and that fucking bunny-teeth smile got him things and places. But mostly, mostly it just made Stiles feel like he wasn't enough.

Enough good looking, enough smart, enough of a space filler for Derek. 

And it both pained and angered him because he liked Derek; and he did want things to work out between them, but he also wasn't a fucking rug to step on. Please, he might be fucked up but he still had some some self-respect to defend.

There were a lot of kisses. Derek kissed him three weeks after they met and didn't stop after that.

He kissed Stiles wherever they were and whenever he felt like it. One time Stiles slapped him; they had been in Starbucks, in fucking Starbucks, and the girl at the counter was really pretty and batting her eyelashes at Derek and the asshole kept smiling back and they got a 50% discount and a free muffin, a 50% discount and free fucking muffin. And Stiles got fed up, requested his coffee to go, as opposed to how they'd planned to drink it there, and walked calmly and with his head high out of there.

That day Stiles lived in a Nicholas Spark movie. Derek gaped after him before catching up and following him outside, giving big strides and pulling his hand when he was close enough. 

Stiles was livid.

Derek had never seen him like that.

So he let it all out, he yelled at Derek how much of an asshole he was with Derek clutching at his wrists and saying nothing; he yelled and yelled until his voice was rough and he whispered every insecurity he had into the space between their faces.

Then Derek kissed him, and Stiles slapped him. "Don't do that" he gritted his teeth "don't kiss me to fool me and get out of whatever mess you've gotten yourself into"

Derek kissed him again and again until Stiles hands were fists on the leather jacket the asshole never left.

"I like you" Derek smiled "I like you so, so much, Stiles" he said in a breathy laugh

"You-what?"

"I like you" he smiled again, and it wasn't that flirty smile he shared with everyone, it was a blinding sunshine happiness Stiles hadn't seen before. It was a smile just for Stiles.

"Yeah?" he was shocked, his eyes probably looked like plates

"Yeah"

"I like you too"

They both dissolved into laughter.

They had sex for the first time that day.

How many nerve endings does the human body have? Right then, Stiles would bet the entire expanse of his skin is covered in them. With Derek's heat around him and the fingernail digging into his back, or the slick skin against his own.

Everything puts him on edge, almost pushes him into the inevitable fall.

But he drags it out, fucking slowly into Derek, pinching him, kissing his neck, licking his collarbones, biting his chest. And Derek just holds onto him, whimpers into his hair and takes it.

Takes it and gives back, his hands traveling the length of Stiles' back to settle on the perfectly round shape of his ass. Pulling Stiles' hips into himself, kneading the flesh there and groaning with the loud reverberation of Stiles in him.

"That-ng-shower was-ah-a fucking-shit-waste" Stiles pants

"I actually enjoyed it" Derek breathes back

And Stiles just laughs again, he looses his breath and his rhythm, but damn he had actually enjoyed that blowjob too.

"Fuck-Stiles" 

"Sorry pup" he feels so spent "think this is my last round"

Stiles knows Derek would've rolled his eyes if they weren't scrunched up of the constant jab at his prostate. One, two, three more and Derek tightens around Stiles, spilling all over their stomachs, a little catches on his chin, it looks so erotic and Stiles just comes; streak after streak of pearly white coating Derek's inside. They just stay there, Stiles getting soft yet refusing to give up Derek's heat; he stretches up and licks the amount of sperm on Derek's face.

"Maybe I love you" Stiles smirks

"Yeah, think maybe I love you too" Derek says with a thoughtful face

The only reason Stiles knows it was exactly three years after they met is because he has a good memory, that and how long he spent staring at his wrist before that day. (The tattoo of the date he got later on has nothing to do with it)

Exactly three years after the coffee shop, on the exact same date, Derek took Stiles back to Beacon Hills; they were living together in New York then. He took him back and before they could unpack or greet anyone or go anywhere, Derek drove him into the preserve. Way into it.

Stiles didn't realize where they were headed until they stopped and he was greeted with a square of dead debris colored in black. The Hale property.

"Hey" Derek took his hand and walked him a little closer "Are you cold?" he was trembling slightly.

Cold? After living in New York? No, he was...scared? terrified?...Stiles was just, he was feeling too much. They had shared everything, everything, this was the only thing Derek had kept to himself; not the story, just the place. He shook his head in case his voice didn't work.

Derek cleared his throat a couple of times before speaking.

"I'm sure by now you know this is where my family used to live" he said

Stiles just nodded

"This property is still mine" Derek smiled lightly, like having it, something that belonged to the Hales, made him happy, connected to his past. "Stiles" he turned.

"Yeah?"

"Stiles, I want to build a life here" he said, his voice sounded so sure but his eyes moved around Stiles face, looking for something "and I would like it very much if you would build it with me"

"What?" he squeaked

"I'd" Derek swallowed hard "I'd understand if you said no, if you wanted to stay in New York; but it's really, it's really be great if you would..."

"If I would?" by then the both of them were shaking slightly and Stiles breath had caught in his chest for so long he was scared of passing out.

"If you would marry me"

"YES!" Stiles shouted, he didn't even think about it, just grabbed Derek's face and kissed him until the air he'd lost had returned; he just kept repeating "yesyesyes" with every kiss. 

They both groan when Stiles pulls out, their bodies are still hot but the air has started to cool down and the mess on the sheets is starting to disgust Stiles.

"I really don't feel like changing them right now, but I don't wanna sleep on them either" he yawns

"That's what we have a guests room for" Derek points out

"Ummm you're so smart"

Derek just rolls his eyes and sits. "Are you taking a shower?"

For a moment Stiles ponders it, weighing pros and cons, how tired he is and how close he is to falling asleep if he as much as blinks.

"Actually" he says "I'd rather you didn't take one either, maybe in the morning I can lick you clean"

Derek flushes slightly, a smile tugging at his lips, he bends down and kisses Stiles, slow and deep and sweet. "Happy anniversary"

"Yeah" Stiles smiles back "Happy anniversary"


End file.
